


Hiding in Plain Sight

by Lady Mythos (CelestialStars)



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Drabble Collection, Experimentation, Gender Roles, Hiding, M/M, Rating May Change, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 14:35:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15390873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialStars/pseuds/Lady%20Mythos
Summary: Jazz is done hiding.





	Hiding in Plain Sight

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of an odd AU experiment. I may add more later depending on how it's received. I'm still working on AoL Chapter 2, this just came out first.

Onlining after surgery was never a fun experience. Ratchet was really stingy with the good stuff which meant Jazz always ached. But this onlining felt different. For the first time in ages, Jazz's HUD was devoid of angry pink warnings. System strain, reduced efficiency of consumption, spark exhaustion, everything was clear. All that remained was a peaceful green alert that his medical ports had been accessed by Ratchet. All in all, this should have been a relief. He should have been overjoyed that his body was finally comfortable again. But all Jazz could feel was a creeping dread that he had made a terrible decision.

"How do you feel?" Jazz lolled his head to the side to catch Ratchet standing at his bedside, a strange look in his optics. The gentle tone made Jazz's spark squeeze in his chest.

"Aw, c'mon Ratch, ya know de Jazzman don' get put out by some slag like surgery," he scoffed, propping himself on a _toosmalltoosmalltoosmall_  arm. "Ain't no need ta treat me like glass."

Blessedly, Ratchet scowled and returned to the grumpy medic the Ark knew and feared.

"Well, excuse me for being concerned for your aft, Jazz. You're damned lucky that you came to me when you did! You could have died on the table if you had waited any longer—"

"An' ya woulda saved meh lika ya always do, Ratch," Jazz interrupted with a tired smile. Something old and sentimental and warm possessed him and Jazz reached out to clasp Ratchet's servo.

"Ah've always trusted ya, Ratch. T'anks fo' keepin' mah secret an' t'anks fo' savin' mah sorry hide more times den not." Ratchet's expression softened again but Jazz stubbornly ignored it. "Ah've lived a lie fo' so long an' Ah think it's time fo' meh ta be da real Jazz again. T'anks fo' lettin' meh find him again."

Jazz could feel the shudder of Ratchet's system as he ex-vented. Jazz hated being so vulnerable. It felt like his spark was prised open for any wandering freak to gawk at. Everything in him screamed that he had made a terrible mistake and that Ratchet was going to plunge those red servoes into his spark and revel in Jazz's screams of pain. His Ops programming pinpointed a thousand different ways to incapacitate Ratchet before he could exploit Jazz's weakness—

A gentle brush over his left horn made Jazz shiver out of his dark thoughts. Jazz curled from his protective ball, when had he bunched himself up, and leaned into the touch. His visor had powered down but that didn't stop him from sensing Ratchet's rare smile.

"You may be a paranoid fragger, but you have such a gentle spark, Jazz." Ratchet purred, stroking Jazz's horn until his engine purred in response. Nudging Jazz's chin, Ratchet reclaimed his servos. "So, would you like to see yourself as you should be?"

Jazz hesitated, old insecurities and deep fear bubbling up in his spark. But Ratchet's smile remained kind. Jazz couldn't disappoint that smile. He nodded mutely and painstakingly slid off of the berth. Ratchet's too big arm wrapped around his waist and supported Jazz's weight. The two carefully made their way to the mirror, slowly allowing Jazz's systems to recalibrate. Jazz took a deep in-vent before he screwed up his courage and looked at the reflection.

There stood a curvy little mech, almost dwarfed by Ratchet's size. His plating was still the familiar old black and white but his frame was entirely different. Thick plates of armor that formerly lined his abdomen had been traded for bare silver protoform. Formerly broad shoulders gave way to slimmer lines and his waist looked infintisimal compared to the massive red servo supporting him. Even his pedes no longer gave him any extra height. His helm barely clipped Ratchet's nasal ridge where it once boasted a small advantage. The mech in the mirror was the perfect image of a fertile Polyhexian bearer and his name was Jazz.

**Author's Note:**

> Soooooo, yeah. Tell me what you think


End file.
